


spring will come never more

by deep_sea_baby



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Angst, F/F, Pining, Unresolved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-18
Updated: 2012-10-18
Packaged: 2017-11-16 13:38:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/540029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deep_sea_baby/pseuds/deep_sea_baby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>at least you're always at her side</p>
            </blockquote>





	spring will come never more

*

you live from visit to visit, spread your broken limbs on the hospital bed and stare out the window, into the deceivingly blue citadel sky, hoping to catch a glimpse of the normandy.

your heart jumps between your shattered ribs when shepard comes to check how you're doing but you just say ‘hey’. you let the doubts you had long buried awaken, you ask questions that make shepard’s weary face harden even more. the two of you part on a bitter note again and again, and you stay alone in your recovery room, clutching the poetry book and cursing at yourself, ‘she will not come back again’.

shepard does, and then you plant a bullet in someone’s head for your commander.

just like old times.

*

you're back on the normandy, and every night is another nightmare of shepard not coming back. you wake up before your alarm goes off, lie in the dark grabbing fistfulls of linen, and pray.

shepard’s as reckless as she’s ever been, maybe even worse now that the whole galaxy is crashing and burning around her, and time is short. she’s unstoppable, a hurricane of gunfire and biotic energy, a one-woman army, and everyone wants her. everyone needs her. to all of them she says, ‘what do you need me to do?’

you want, too. you share a drink or two once in a while, exchanging the same old stories but laughing as if both of you are hearing them for the first time. shepard pulls a corner of her mouth up, says ‘ _ash_ ’, and there is so much in the way your name falls from her lips like a sigh: ‘it’s good to have you back’, ‘i missed you’, and ‘i’m not sure i can do this’, but most of all, ‘i’m tired’.

shepard takes you on almost every mission, relies on you being at her back as easily as if you’d never left. you wish you hadn’t. you know how shepard talks about tali and garrus — _the ones who stuck by her through everything_. you didn’t.

you down a bottle of whisky on your own, and shepard is the one to find you. when you sober up you regret you're not the type of person who spills out secrets when they’re drunk.

the squad lays waste to the cerberus headquarters, and it’s like a blazing sign from above telling you to let things go. shepard strides into the lounge, stands a few steps away from you and you're bursting at the seams, overflowing with everything you want to— _have to_ say. you've never been good with words, but this time there’s not a poem in the world that could say it for you.

you talk about how satisfying it feels to have blown up cerberus, and shepard listens, nods, and goes away.

at least you're always at her side. now you know for sure, if shepard goes, williams goes, too. that’s how it always should’ve been.

*

you rehearse your speech. if not now, before the final push, then when? who knows how much time either of you have left. you recite the poem, and shepard smiles, wrinkles adorning her dark eyes. she is so close all you need is one small step, and maybe you wouldn’t even need to fumble over words.

‘lost count of all the times you’ve saved me,’ shepard says, but that’s because she doesn’t keep count. you do, and you know it hasn’t been enough.

you'll be there for her this time, the most important time. you run right behind shepard toward the beacon of light in the distance. one moment you are certain you will never let shepard down again, and the other the ground is being ripped from under your feet, everything around you turning a blinding shade of red.

when your senses return, you can feel shepard’s arms around you, and for a wild moment you dare hope you've been out longer, long enough, that the battle is over, that shepard did it — saved you all. you cling to shepard but she pushes you away. you fall back and garrus catches you. you want to stand on your own but your legs don’t listen.

‘take her and go,’ you hear shepard say, voice strained so tight something inside you is ready to snap, as well. garrus disagrees, shouts over the cacophony of explosions and screams and the rumbling of normandy’s engine.

‘garrus, that’s an order!’

garrus’s fingers tighten around your shoulders.

‘shepard,’ you manage, and it’s a plea, a prayer, a confession. this cannot be happening, you can’t _let_ this happen, not again. ‘ _you’re a survivor, ash,’_ shepard told you but you don't want to be. ‘i’ll go with you, i will fight!’ you yell but shepard’s already walking away, and you're thrown back in time, back to the burning normandy, back on horizon, on the citadel, all the times you hesitated to follow shepard to the end.

 _‘_ i love you!’

shepard stops. there is a split second where the masks of the commander, the spectre, the saviour of the galaxy slip, and all is left is just a woman of whom people always asked too much, but she said ‘leave it up to me’ anyway. war has been all the two of you have ever known; all you've ever allowed yourselves to know.

shepard clenches fists, stands up straight. ‘i’ll come back,’ she says, but she doesn't.

she doesn’t.

**Author's Note:**

> title is from tennyson's poem 'all things will die'
> 
> after two years it dawned on me this should've been written from second person perspective. slow thinker doesnt even begin to cover it.


End file.
